Everybody Comes to Zel's
by GLCorps2814
Summary: Welcome to Casablanca...starring the cast of Slayers! Oh, this CAN'T be good... (formatting finally repaired)


Everybody Comes to Zel's by: GL Corps 2814  
  
(So, usual deal. Slayers isn't mine, nor is the play 'Everybody Comes to Rick's' or the film based upon it, 'Casablanca'. Special nod to the Internet Movie Database for the title info and quote section, which I used to get some verbatim quotes from the movie to insert in here. Also, while this is also a spoof, it's a much darker comedy than my past works. Just a heads-up for those of you searching for my usual, nonsensical stuff. Review if you want)  
  
Zel's Café American was a hot spot in Casablanca, a part of unoccupied, formerly French territory. For some, the café rekindled memories of their far-off home. For others, the place was a sort of introduction to the new home they were fleeing to. Either way, everyone was trying to get to America from Casablanca. It was the second to last stop on the refugee trail, the final one being Lisbon, from which sea passage to the States was easily obtained.  
Of course, the hard part was getting out of this near-final step. You had to get an exit visa, or an even more rare letter of transit. The only way to get a visa was from corrupt Prefect of Police Xellos or the black market. Neither was an easy task. The latter was expensive, the former.........creepy. When a young couple was involved, Xellos had a tendency to ask certain favors of the young woman of the pair (or the man, depending on what mood he was in that day). To get a letter of transit, you had to be a Nazi. Not that any of it mattered to Zelgadis Graywords, owner of the Café. He just wanted to do the simple things that kept him happy: running his joint, having flings, and contemplating just how miserable life made him.  
Clad in his usual, white-jacket tuxedo, he walked down from his small room atop his club down into the bustling crowds. It was a god-awful mix of folks. Being neutral territory, it was swarming with refugees as well as the very Nazis they were fleeing. As if that wasn't confusing enough already, there were also French police officers and Allied Soldiers.  
All in all, Zel hated the lot of them. He hated the Nazis for driving him out of his relatively decent life in Paris, the Allies because he wasn't welcome in America anymore, and the refugees because they dared be unhappier than he was. But he wasn't in a crappy enough mood yet, so he wandered into the "secret" roulette club behind the main bar area. There he saw Prefect Xellos, who he hated more than anyone else. Since Xellos was the chief of police, he could shut the place down whenever the whim hit him. Therefore, Zel not only had to put up with his presence, but had to let him win at roulette all the time, as well.  
"Aren't you ready to leave YET?!" Zelgadis demanded of the eternally- grinning officer.  
"Oh, why ever would I want to leave?" He asked, opening his eyes so he could wink. "I'm on such a streak tonight!"  
"You know, a car tire driven repeatedly over one's back also leaves a nice streak, as well."  
"Hmm..." He glanced at Zelgadis, and his grin faded for a split- second. "Ah, croupier! I think I'll take my chips now..."  
Grinning at this one, small victory, Zelgadis wandered back into the club area and meandered over to the piano. There sat Gourry, the pianist that had been following Zelgadis around since London.  
"Gourry...haven't you learned ANYTHING besides 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,' yet?"  
"Sure!" He proudly exclaimed. "I can play the alphabet song!"  
Zel said nothing, but instead ran his hand down his face in total exasperation.  
"Oh, wait." Gourry suddenly said.  
"What?" Zel groaned.  
"There IS that one from Paris..."  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" In his terror, Zel slammed the key cover shut...right on Gourry's fingers. "GAH!" Gourry tore his fingers from the cover and blew on them. "I told you never to play that song again! NO!"  
"But..."  
"NO! Go with 'Twinkle'! I love 'Twinkle'!" His eyes went wide with rage as Gourry just sat, staring blankly at him as his fingers throbbed. "Well?! PLAY! PLAY, GABRIEV! 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so...high ..."  
He looked around the café, and saw the many faces turned his way.  
"Ah...ah-heh..." He just grinned and went over to the bar, his red blush mixing with his blue face to create a deep, maroon-purple. He sat in a chair and hunched over the wooden bar top, glowering. "Damn, gape- mouthed..."  
"Oh shut up and cheer up, already!" His bartender, Lina, snapped. "It's the same thing every night! You come in, glare at everybody, yell at Xellos, yell at Gourry, and then make a total ass of yourself!"  
"Can it and pour me a drink."  
"I think you've had enough."  
"I haven't had anything!"  
"Oh." She sighed. "Fine. What'll it be?"  
"Whiskey."  
"Ah, Monsieur Zel!" Xellos said, suddenly walking up next to Zel. "I just heard the most INTERESTING news! Guess who's headed to Casablanca!"  
"Don't know, don't care."  
"Oh, I think you will." Xellos grabbed Zel's drink and downed it. "Our esteemed visitor is going to be...Philionel Lazlo."  
Zel froze. Xellos walked away, chuckling to himself all the while. Lina just cocked an eyebrow in confusion, watching him walk away. Then she looked back at her boss, and tapped him on the shoulder. He fell over, landing hard and still in the position he had been in on the stool.  
"Uh...I'll get you another whiskey." She said.  
"NO!" Zel stood, and grabbed her by her shoulders. "It needs to be stronger! MUCH STRONGER!"  
"Boss, what's your problem with Phil Lazlo?"  
"Nothing! It's...it's..."  
"What?"  
  
"His daughter."  
"Huh?"  
"Long story, that I won't get into right now because it's not convenient to the plot."  
"What?!"  
  
"Never mind."  
  
[And now, ladies and gentlemen, this story's special, celebrity guest...PETER LORRE, reprising his real-life 'Casablanca' role of Ugarte!]  
  
"Zel!" Ugarte rushed up to the bar. "Zel, my old friend!"  
"Ugarte!" Zel looked at him. "Ugarte, my old pain in the ass who I would kill myself if he hadn't rung up such an enormous tab over the years! What is it?"  
"I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be leaving Casablanca soon!"  
"Oh? How's that? You and Xellos..."  
"No!" He looked at Lina. "I'll have what he's having."  
"No you won't."  
"Why not?!"  
"Because it should have killed HIM by now, never mind YOU."  
"In that case, make it a scotch and soda." He turned back to Zel. "No, old friend, I've recently come to own something that will make me enough money to buy FIFTY exit visas off the black market!"  
"Oh?"  
"Letters of transit."  
That one caught Zel off-guard. He stopped and glanced at Ugarte, then downed the last of his drink.  
"And how, pray tell, did you manage that?"  
"Well I..."  
"Zelgadis!" Xellos rushed over to him. "Zelgadis, terrible news!"  
"What?"  
"I'm in deep trouble."  
"Oh?"  
"A Nazi courier was just found dead outside of town! Oh, and we've got visitors from the Third Reich coming in an hour! If you hear anything..."  
"Of course, of course." Xellos ran off, and Zel glared at Ugarte. "You were saying?"  
"Oh, Zel, you wouldn't accuse me of..."  
"Yes, I would. And even if you didn't, I could at least accuse you of robbing the morgue."  
"You have that little faith in me?"  
"No, I have less than that."  
There was a long pause as Zel ordered another drink, and Ugarte received his. Finally, the smaller man glanced over at his "friend."  
"Zel...I was wondering..."  
"No."  
"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"  
"Yes I do."  
"I was going to ask you to hold the letters of transit for me!"  
"I know."  
"But..."  
"I stick my neck out for no one, Ugarte! You know that!" Zel frowned. "You know I can't stand you. You know there's nothing from stopping me selling those letters myself, or ratting you out to Xellos. Why give them to me to keep an eye on?"  
"Because, Zel, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust."  
"Uh-huh..."  
"Look, you're close friends with Xellos! He'd never..."  
"Okay, okay, if it'll shut you up!"  
"Oh, Zel, I'm eternally grateful!" He slipped Zel the two letters, wrapped in a yellow envelope. "Just know you'll always have my thanks."  
  
"Grand. How about a little bit of that cash, too?"  
"Well...uh..." He sighed. "Fine."  
"Fifteen percent."  
"Considering how much I'm going to make off this little transaction, it's a deal."  
Zel shook the smaller man's hand and left the bar. He snaked his way through the crowd towards the piano, where he slipped the envelope into the guts of it. Then, casually as possible, he headed for his personal table.  
  
For the next two hours, all he did was play a game of chess by himself and sign the occasional OK for a check or bill. The only time he finally responded to the prodding of his waitress, Filia, was when she explained that Prefect Xellos had returned, a gaggle of Nazis in tow.  
"Now what the hell could he want?" Zel stood and headed for the doorway.  
"Zelgadis!" Xellos proclaimed proudly, gesturing to the lead Nazi. "Meet Major Strudel of the Third Reich."  
"You say THIRD Reich as if you were expecting another." Strudel said.  
"I take what comes." Xellos replied, opening his eyes to send a chill down the Major's spin. Then he looked back at Zel. "The Major's in for quite a show."  
"Oh?"  
"He's going to witness an arrest here."  
"I see." Zel's face froze. "And you're telling ME this why?"  
"We want to make sure you'll not get in the way." Strudel said.  
"Ask Xellos."  
"He 'sticks his neck out for no man,' Major." Xellos replied promptly. "I told you."  
"Even a friend?"  
"My only friend is Gourry." He blinked. "Which is really, exceptionally sad, now that I think about it."  
"I can assure you, Gourry has done nothing wrong." Xellos said. "He's far too stupid to."  
"Will you have a drink with us, Monsieur Graywords?" Strudel asked.  
"I never drink with customers."  
"Will you sit and speak with us, then?"  
"What about?"  
"Philionel Lazlo."  
"Never met him."  
"No, but we know he's headed this way." Strudel gestured for a table. "Please."  
"Fine." The group sat, Strudel directly across from Zel. "What exactly do you want to know?"  
"You ran guns to Ethiopia some time ago, didn't you?" Strudel said.  
"What's this got to do with Lazlo?"  
"Did you or didn't you, Monsieur Graywords?"  
"Yes."  
"And you fought in Spain on the Royalist side."  
"The pay was good."  
"The winning side would have paid better." Xellos said.  
"The Prefect has made my point perfectly." Strudel said, frowning. "Despite the façade you've tried to set up for yourself as a cold individual who cares for none but himself, you have a history for fighting for the underdog."  
"Your point, Major?"  
"It doesn't get much more underdog than Philionel Lazlo. Underground member against our Reich, escaped a concentration camp...your kind of man."  
"Maybe at one time. But not anymore." Zel stood. "Casablanca changes a man, Strudel."  
"For the better, in your case."  
"Ah!" Xellos suddenly said. "The show is about to begin, Major."  
"Hmm?" Zel asked, and he turned to see that Ugarte had returned. "What are you arresting HIM for?"  
"We have our reasons." Strudel replied, watching as the French policemen approached the small, greasy fellow. "Which are none of your business."  
"I see."  
He watched as Ugarte was dragged off, screaming for Zel to come and help him. But he just headed back for his table, grabbing a bottle of whiskey on the way.  
  
"That was cold." Lina said, walking over to him some time later.  
"Damned if I care."  
"Ugarte was your...uh...friend?"  
"Hardly." He downed some of the whiskey. "I told you before, Lina. I have no friends except Gourry, and in his case it's more a friendship with a stupid dog than a normal human."  
"You cold BASTARD!" Lina smacked him, and for her sake he pretended to be slapped and turned his head so she would not slice her flesh on his stony face. Fuming, she stormed off.  
"Gee...Lina angry." Zel grumbled. "Never seen THAT before."  
  
The loud buzz that cut through the air a short time later was what roused Zel from his latest solo chess game. He glanced up and headed to the main café area, where he found customers murmuring to each other from their tables. They were all looking up at the entrance, and Zel found out why.  
"Lazlo." He whispered, looking at the huge man in the doorway. "Hmm...looks like his daughter isn't with him. Good."  
"Right this way, Mister Lazlo." Filia said. "We've got a nice table right over on this side of the bar."  
When he moved, Zel saw that a young girl had been standing behind him.  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  
"I know that scream of terror!" The girl looked up, and her face brightened. "Monsieur Zelgadis!"  
"NO!" He bolted for Gourry, and reached into the big man's jacket. "Gourrygottaborrowthis!"  
"Borrow what?!"  
But Zel said nothing, and instead tore an object from Gourry's jacket. He spun to face Amelia Lazlo, who was running for him with her arms wide open.  
"LIGHT COME FORTH!"  
"WOAH!" Amelia leapt back from the glowing, white blade. "Not all that happy to see me, eh?"  
"WHY IN THE NAME OF THE DARK UNDERWORLD WOULD I BE?!"  
"B-but...I love you, Monsieur Zelgadis!"  
"Don't make me use this thing!" He shouted, waving the sword at Amelia some.  
"Zel!" Gourry grabbed the sword of light and, snuffing it, stuck it into his jacket. "How dare you treat Mademoiselle Lazlo like that!"  
"Monsieur Gourry!" Amelia embraced the huge, lovable oaf. "Monsieur Gourry, it's been so long! Monsieur...can you play it again? Like old times?"  
"Of course."  
"NO!" Zel ran for the piano, but Lina and Filia tackled him, pinning him to the ground.  
Slowly, Gourry sat at the piano and cracked his knuckles. The room went dark, and from nowhere a spotlight shown down on him. He room hushed in rigid anticipation to hear Gourry play something other than 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' or 'The Alphabet Song'.  
So the reaction was a bit mixed when 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' began to waft through the air.  
"That's IT?!" Lina snapped. "THAT'S the big song?!"  
"Oh, Monsieur Zelgadis! Our song!"  
"Our song my stony ass! It's the song you assigned to us! Hell, you assigned the fact that we are an US to us!"  
"Amelia, who is this grumpy little fellow?" Philionel asked.  
"Daddy, THIS is Monsieur Zelgadis!"  
"Oh, the fellow you've told me so much about!" Phil lifted Zel out from under the two women and embraced him so hard that even the rocky café owner could feel it. "Thank you so much for showing so much care for my daughter in Paris!"  
"No...problem." Zel croaked.  
"Whatever can I do to repay you?!"  
"Let...me...breathe!"  
"Oops, sorry." And Phil released the chimera. "Now, you MUST have a drink with us and talk about Paris!"  
"Uh...but...I don't drink with..."  
"Monsieur Lazlo." Zel instantly recognized the oily voice of Strudel, and he was terrified by the black cloud that passed over the giant Lazlo's face. He turned to see the Nazi, Xellos next to him.  
"You have me at a disadvantage, Major...?"  
"Strudel." Xellos supplied. Then, as if an afterthought: "Of the Third Reich."  
"Would you PLEASE stop saying that?!" Strudel hissed.  
"What do you want?" Lazlo demanded.  
"Only to greet you on behalf of the Führer."  
"This is neutral territory, PAL." Gourry said, suddenly next to Zel. A hand was moving for the sword within his jacket.  
"Yeah, so back off." Lina said, moving into place.  
"Guys." Zel whispered out of a corner of his mouth. He recognized the heroic group gathering, ready for a fight. "When I say that I don't stick my neck out for anyone, it kind of means my employees shouldn't, either!"  
"You heard what they said!" Filia growled, apparently having heard Zel as well as her companions. Zel glanced over and saw her huge, spiked club in hand.  
"Uh...guys? I'm pretty sure it's in your contract that NO-ONE who works here sticks their neck out..."  
"Now, now..." Strudel said, a slight twinge of fear obvious in his eyes. "I am fully aware of what I can and cannot do in Casablanca. I simply wished to greet the ESTEEMED Monsieur Lazlo. It is not every day I get to meet a man who escaped one of our concentration camps."  
"Or escaped your inept men on five OTHER occasions!" Amelia added with a proud grin.  
This one annoyed Strudel some, evident as a tiny twitch in one of his eyelids. But it passed quickly, and a grin crossed his face that would probably have sent chills up most men's spines. Zel just recognized the smile he gave himself in the mirror every morning.  
"However, I AM authorized to handle you however I wish." Xellos added, his eyes opening in those creepy ways he allowed them to on rare occasion.  
"You wouldn't!" Lina hissed.  
"And why wouldn't I?"  
"Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows..."  
"Oh, right, that." Xellos said, paling as his eyes shut again. "Well...in that case, Monsieur Lazlo, I would like to REQUEST your presence at my office tomorrow morning at ten AM."  
"For what?"  
"Simply a calm meeting with less...players." Strudel said, glancing at Zelgadis's employees. "I can promise you that nothing will come of you there. You will exit the headquarters quite unharmed."  
"Daddy, don't trust him!" Amelia whispered, grabbing his arm.  
"We'll be there." Lazlo said. "Provided Monsieur Zelgadis is allowed to come."  
"What?!" Zel hollered.  
"Fine." Strudel said.  
"WHAT?!"  
"Ten AM, then." Xellos said.  
"Now wait one minute!" Zel tried to protest, but he was ignored. The Nazi and Prefect left, and Amelia hugged her father. "Cripes."  
"It's a noble thing you're doing." Filia said.  
"Uh-huh." He glanced at her. "Your tail's showing."  
"OH!" And she tried to lower her dress so fast that she fell flat on her face.  
"God forbid we have a serious moment..." Zel grumbled.  
  
"Oh, Monsieur Zelgadis!" Amelia said, running up to his table. "We can finally..."  
"NO! No, we can't! We can't talk, we can't remember Paris, and we can't listen to Gourry play that damnable song!"  
"B-but...oh..."  
"Dammit." He grumbled, looking up to see tears in her eyes. "I don't get it, Amelia. I've made it VERY clear that I can't stand you, yet you persist in pursuing me! Why?!"  
"Because we're destined for each other!" She paused. "You...uh...just can't see it yet."  
"Trust me, I didn't see it in Paris, and I ain't gonna see it now."  
"I...see." Amelia stood. "I guess I'll join my father, now. Good night, Monsieur Graywords."  
"Good night."  
He watched her walk away, until his head was slammed forward by a powerful blow from behind. He turned, rubbing the back of his skull. He saw Lina standing there, Filia next to her with club in hand.  
"Cold bastard." Lina hissed. "How could you do that to her?!"  
"VERY easily." He took a draw from his glass. "You don't know her like I do. You don't know."  
"Of course we don't!" Filia snapped. "You don't tell anyone ANYTHING!"  
"And I don't plan to start now! So LEAVE!"  
The two walked off, looking angry. Zel just sneered and continued to drink...  
...three hours later, he was still drinking...  
...as his club closed, he was drinking...  
...an hour after it closed, Gourry was nudging him as he drank.  
"Darn it, Zel, come on!"  
"NO!"  
"But..."  
"I said no! Go and spend your damn pay on some foolish, shiny object or something and LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
"Fine." With a cold glare, Gourry left.  
And when he was sure everyone was gone, Zel slammed his head on his table and had a good, long cry as he remembered. He remembered...Paris...  
  
(And so the screen did waver with the effects of flashback back...ack...ck...k...)  
  
He was walking down the street on a rather casual walk, basking in just how awful the weather was that day. Passing an alley, he heard a sad moan. He looked in to see a young girl there, huddled in a cheap, tan cloak.  
"Good God..." He ran in and rushed her to the tiny apartment that he and Gourry shared. "GOURRY! GET SOME BLANKETS AND WATER!"  
  
A short time later, he watched as the two, enormous eyes slowly opened. There was a brief flash of fear on the girl's face, and Zel suddenly wished he'd remembered to put his hood on. He grinned awkwardly, and was rewarded with a tiny smile working its way onto the exhausted girl's face.  
"Good morning." He said.  
"Where am I?"  
"My apartment. I found you nearly frozen to death in an alleyway."  
"Oh. Who're you?"  
"Graywords." He grinned. "Zelgadis Graywords."  
"Uh, Zel?" Gourry whispered, leaning over his friend's shoulder and whispering into his ear. "Wrong crossover spoof."  
Zel's response was his elbow, slammed as hard as he could get it into the bottom of Gourry's jaw.  
  
(AND NOW, A MONTAGE!)  
  
-Zel and Amelia walking through a park on a bright, sunny day, arm in arm. Zel grimaces at the bright sun, then spies a small child walking by with a shiny, red balloon. Walking by the kid, Zel pops it. The kid bursts into tears, and Zel bursts into maniacal laughter. Amelia just cocks an eyebrow in confusion, then gives in and laughs, too, pulling herself closer to Zel.  
  
-Zel and Amelia in a motorcar (yes, motorcar. it was the late 1930s, some people still called 'em that, so you can just shut up right now), with Zel at the wheel. Then the image jumps to a wide shot of Zel's car and the road, so a bicyclist (30s, remember?) can be seen approaching. The bicyclist happily pulls to the side of the road...and Zel swerves to hit him. It cuts back to the car to see the body tumbling over it and landing in the road behind. Zel and Amelia laugh, and Amelia leans in closer to him.  
  
-Zel and Amelia on a boat touring a river in Paris. The same small boy is there, again with a balloon. Zel goes to pop it, but stop and bows to Amelia, who stabs it with her fingernails. The pop frightens an old man, who drops his cane and crashes into a young, debonair-looking fellow in a fancy suit and ascot. He is tossed into the water and swims to the surface, only to have a speedboat hit him in the head. Zel and Amelia laugh, and laugh, and laugh, even as his last few bubbles of breath float to the surface.  
  
(AND NOW, BACK TO THE FLASHBACK ITSELF)  
  
"Oh, Monsieur Zelgadis!" Amelia said, leaning next to him on his couch. "I love you."  
"Well I..." And then Zel's pupils dilated in abject horror. "YOU WHAT?!"  
"I...I love you!"  
"WOAH!" Zel leapt to his feet. "Wait a minute! Love?! I thought we were just having some fun being jerks together!"  
"Oh, but there's so much more, Monsieur Zelgadis!"  
"No, there ain't!" He backed away in terror. "We're friends! Nothing more! FRIENDS!"  
He ran from his house, then, and hid for days. He had to hide in dark, damp alleyways and seedy dives. He had to sleep on concrete or under pool tables. He just had to avoid Amelia, who seemed to find him wherever he went.  
He was miserable.  
So, whether he would admit it or not, he was happy.  
Then the Nazis came. He ran out of the country...and it was over. No more fun in running. No more misery. Just a successful bar in Casablanca...  
  
(And so the screen did waver in a reverse, anti-flashback back...ack...ck...k...)  
  
He was still crying when a door creaked open behind him. Silently he prayed it was a Nazi come to shoot him twenty times in the back with a Luger.  
"Monsieur Zelgadis?" An all-too-familiar voice said.  
"NO!" He leapt to his feet, but tumbled due to the countless pints of alcohol he had consumed throughout his pained reveries. "Ssssstay away from m-m-m-m-m-me, you c-crazssssssssssssssy nutjob you!"  
"Oh, Monsieur Zelgadis!" Amelia's ridiculously gargantuan eyes filled with tears big enough to fill a mason jar. She ran over to him, and tried to embrace him.  
"NO!" Zel fell back and held his hands up. "I'll Rah Tilt ya! I'll Rah Tilt ya so hard you won't realize you're dead until you show up in the afterlife and Teddy Roosevelt kicks ya in the bum! He was a jerk like that, you know!"  
"Oh...Monsieur Zelgadis, you're drunk!"  
"SO WHAT?! I could say this damn spell in my sleep!"  
"Fine." She walked right up to his hands. "Do it."  
And so Zel did chant, his words slurred somewhat but still correct.  
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH TILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLT!"  
The flash was blinding, the noise deafening. Zelgadis laughed like a crazed villain as the light cleared.  
But he was cut off when he found Amelia still standing there.  
"What the hell?!"  
"The Rah Tilt only works on Monsters...remember?" She said, a sad look in her eyes.  
"Aw, fuck." He slumped to the floor.  
  
As he awoke, the first thing he felt was the cold compress on his head. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and he found himself staring at a blank ceiling. He sat up slowly, pulling the compress off.  
"Ugh..."  
"You're lucky you didn't die of alcohol poisoning." A voice said, and he turned to see Lina standing there.  
"That was the intent." He sighed and stood. "Failed again."  
"Ugh."  
"Nice place." He stretched. "Didn't realize what a decent apartment you had. I must be paying you too much..."  
"Ain't mine. I was called here by the person that rents the place out and brought you here."  
"Huh?" Then the events of that night came back to him very fast. "Oh...oh, NO!"  
He stood and bolted for the door, but right as he went to turn the knob it was tossed open. Unable to stop himself, he ran face-first into Phil Lazlo's chest.  
"Ah, Monsieur Zelgadis!" He said, slapping the chimera on the back so hard that he tumbled forward. "It's good to see that you're doing well!"  
"Ooh..."  
"Oh, my, you suddenly look much worse again." He grabbed the smaller fellow by the shoulder. "I certainly hope you can still make it to the meeting today!"  
"Well I..."  
"Of COURSE he can!" Lina interjected.  
"Fantastic! Let's go!"  
"But I..."  
Before he knew what was going on, Zel was being ushered out of the room by Lina and Phil and being shoved into a cab. Phil was on one side of him, and Amelia leapt in on the other. She grinned at him, and he sighed.  
  
The meeting had been going on for some time, Zel falling asleep three or four times throughout its course. It started off as witty banter between Phil and Strudel liberally laced with thinly-veiled insults, but eventually delineated to the Nazi just outright threatening Phil.  
"You CANNOT escape Casablanca, Monsieur Lazlo!" He snapped.  
"And what makes you think that?" Phil asked cockily. "I've escaped you people six times before."  
"Yeah!" Amelia snapped, leaping so that she stood on her chair. A triumphant grin on her lips, she pointed straight at the beast. "You cannot stop us, because we are on the side of justice, and justice ALWAYS prevails!"  
"No it doesn't." Strudel, Xellos, and Zel all said at once.  
"Of course, you used to think differently, Zelgadis." Xellos said.  
"Yeah, but then I got to Casablanca."  
"Exactly my point!" Strudel said. "This is a hopeless place, Monsieur Lazlo! It is crawling with pathetic refugees, criminals, and Frenchmen!"  
"Hey!" Xellos snapped.  
"There are very few ways to get out of here," Strudel continued, ignoring Xellos. "But everyone one of them requires an exit visa, and I control the visas!"  
"Actually, I do." Xellos squeaked.  
"Close enough to me controlling them." Strudel grumbled.  
"How true." Zel quipped.  
"I'll find SOME way out of here, Strudel." Phil said. With a small grin, he glanced at Zelgadis. "Who knows, maybe I've already found one you don't know about."  
"Eh?" Strudel stared directly at Zelgadis. "Ah...you knew Ugarte, correct?"  
"His presence darkened my doorstep sometimes, yes."  
"Mm."  
"What the hell do you mean by that?"  
"Just...mm."  
"Friggin' Nazis." Zel grumbled, and he stood.  
It was then that Amelia decided to throw in her two cents yet again:  
"Your deceitful ways may fool weak enemies like the French..."  
"Hey!" Xellos snapped again.  
"But they cannot crush ours or Monsieur Zel's spirits!"  
"You tell him, Amelia!" Phil hollered. "The light of justice will shine upon the dark evil of this world..."  
Soon, the two were speaking in tandem:  
"And will cause the tiny insects who serve evil to scurry away! But they will not be able to hide from justice's light, and the hammer of justice will come down to crush them!"  
"Quite." Strudel said, with a grin. "Monsieur Lazlo...you and your daughter are quite close, eh?"  
"I love my daddy!" Amelia said, embracing Phil around the neck. "He's justice's greatest ally!"  
"Of course." Suddenly, the odd grin on the Nazi's lips twisted into a horrible, oily grin. "Monsieur Lazlo...HOW close are you to your daughter?"  
"What are you driving at, Major?" Phil hissed, his eyes thinning dangerously.  
"How about this...you willingly come with me, and we give your daughter an exit visa."  
"Wh-what?!"  
"Yes." Strudel said. "I guarantee you that she gets to Lisbon without harm, and that none of my people will try to impede her journey to the States."  
"NO!" Amelia shouted. "Wherever my Daddy goes, I go! Even if he has to stay in Casablanca forever, I'll stay with him!"  
"Then stay he shall. Get used to Monsieur Grayword's club, Monsieur Lazlo... you'll have quite a few nights to spend there."  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Zel suddenly screamed. He grabbed Amelia and Lazlo, and flung them behind him as hard as he could. "FIREBALL!"  
Even as the blast cooked Strudel and Xellos, Zel was grabbing the Lazlos and running pell-mell for his club.  
"Monsieur Zelgadis...what...are...you...doing?!" Phil hollered.  
"Getting you out of my hair!" He burst into the club and tore open the top of the piano. "HERE! Letters of transit! Take them and GO!"  
"My God...I didn't even know you had these!" Phil said.  
"WHAT?! Then why did you look at me back there?!"  
"I thought you could help us SOMEHOW...just not like this."  
"Well, there you go! Off to the airstrip!"  
"How do we get there?" Amelia asked.  
"Oh, DAMMIT!" He grabbed his hat and trench coat. "I'll get you there! Anything to get you the hell out of my life!"  
  
"How did it become night so fast?" Phil asked, looking around the airfield.  
"Damned if I know." Zel snapped. "Now there's the last plane, GO GO GO!"  
"But...but Zel..." Amelia said, her eyes filling with those gargantuan tears again.  
"Oh, WHAT?!"  
"But I love you!"  
"I...ugh..." Zel paused and sighed. "Amelia...your father needs you more than I do. He needs someone that's as crazy as he is, or his head might implode or something. If you don't get on that plane, you'll regret it! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon...and for the rest of your life."  
"Oh, Monsieur Zelgadis!" She held him close. "I'll always love you."  
"We'll always have Paris."  
"Oh." She wept into his jacket. "Goodbye!"  
"Goodbye, Amelia." He took hold of her chin and moved her face so she was looking at him. "Here's looking at you, kid."  
'If I have to day one more dumbass line," He thought, 'SOMEONE is going to die!'  
"HALT!" A voice suddenly screamed.  
"Strudel!" Phil shouted.  
"GO!" Zel screamed. "I'll hold him off!"  
"Goodbye!" Amelia suddenly grabbed Zel, then, and pulled him down to her face. Before he could angrily demand what was going on, she planted a hard kiss on his lips. With that done, she tearfully released him. "Goodbye...Zelgadis."  
"Uh...yeah, bye." He said, and he watched her run out of hearing range to the plane. "AH, BLECH!"  
"Stop!" Strudel screamed, he and Xellos now next to Zel. "STOP!"  
"Can it, you fucking Nazi!" Zel snapped. Then he spun and punched Strudel square in the face. Even as the Major stumbled, he held his hands out. "FLARE ARROW!"  
The shining attack spell sliced straight through the Major's heart, sending him tumbling to the ground. Zel just stared down at the corpse, his hands smoking. Xellos slowly moved up next to him and looked down, too.  
"Well." Xellos said.  
"Looks like you'll have to take me in."  
"So it would."  
Since people have AMAZING timing in movies, the police chose that very moment to show up. The all stood around the body, then looked up at Xellos, who slowly looked towards Zel.  
"Major Strudel has been killed." He looked back at his men. "Round up the usual suspects."  
"Oui!" The men said, and they were off.  
"Xellos..." Zelgadis said, amazed.  
"I was getting sick of him." Xellos replied.  
The two men were interrupted by the loud whirring of the plane's engines. They both stopped to watch it buzz away.  
"Good work." Xellos said.  
"Thanks."  
The pair slowly walked away from the airfield.  
"You know, Zelgadis...this looks like the beginning of a BEAUTIFUL friendship."  
"No it doesn't."  
  
THE END 


End file.
